


Tea Time

by molossiamerica



Series: Office Antics [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, alfred is the mail guy, arthur is a lovesick puppy, literally just fluff, nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7459084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molossiamerica/pseuds/molossiamerica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland has a weakness for the office mailman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea Time

"Ah, Bonnefoy-san?"

The sudden interruption made Francis jolt, turning his head away from the computer screen with surprise. Seeing Kiku, his long-time coworker, standing in his cubicle made him raise a brow. After all, the man never seemed to willingly stand within ten feet of another person; he was extremely conscious about maintaining his personal space at all times, and it was very rare for him to actively approach someone and be in such close proximity to them.

"Yes?" The Frenchman asked, adopting a flirtatious smile in hopes that his coworker was trying to initiate a conversation about something unrelated to their job.

"It appears that Kirkland-sama is angry... again. He's been yelling into his phone all morning." Kiku informed, his voice low and quiet.

Francis frowned, disappointed. Damn that stupid Brit; if it weren't for him and his terrible temper, Kiku might have come over with something entirely different on his mind.

"Ah. Thank you for telling me. I'll speak to him." The man managed pleasantly, pushing away from his desk and standing up.

He exited his cubicle, walking around it and turning the corner. He walked until he reached Arthur's office, wincing at the fact that he could hear loud shouting from inside before he got within ten feet of the room. Francis rolled his eyes and opened the door, groaning as the shouting became deafening.

"Louder, please, the building beside us can't hear you yet," Francis hollered sarcastically.

"What do you want?!" The Brit glared murderously at his employee as he slammed his phone down, effectively ending whatever phone call he'd been having.

"What is it that has made you so goddamn angry?" The Frenchman questioned, gracefully and somewhat dramatically falling into one of the two uncomfortable chairs that had been set in front of Arthur's cluttered desk.

"They didn't make enough fucking copies! I specifically said _two thousand_! And how many goddamn copies do I have? _Twelve hundred_! How the bloody fuck do they got off, trying to scam me out of 800 copies?!" Arthur shouted, a bit quieter than before as he was aware that Francis, although usually the culprit, was not the source of his problems on this particular day.

"Ah, so did you ask them to—"

"Not to mention that this whole day has been off!" Arthur interrupted, fuming. "The Boiling Teapot was closed and I was already so I was forced to go to that disgusting chain coffee place, and I accidentally ordered some goddamned red drink that they tried to pass off as Tea-vera or something moronic like that! Then, while I walked here and attempted to drink the horrid concoction I paid too much goddamned money for, some arsehole came out of fucking nowhere and right into me! I spilled the tea on him and the arse had the audacity to insist that I buy him a new shirt, and did not accept that the tea I'd just purchased probably costed double what his shirt did, and then—"

A knock at the door snapped Arthur out of his rant and Francis out of his daydream, both heads turning to stare at the closed door.

" _WHAT_?!" The Brit yelled ferociously.

"Uh... Mr. Kirkland? I have your mail." The voice of the office mailman, Alfred, chimed in it's usual cherry tone, although a bit hesitant. "I can come back later, if—"

"No, no, that's fine, come in!" Arthur said, his voice suddenly melting into a sweet, polite tone.

Francis glanced over in shock, surprised to find that the Brit was now frantically combing his fingers through his hair and straightening in his seat. As the door opened, Arthur's face went red and he put on his best smile, much to the utter amazement of Francis. In all the years he'd known Arthur, he'd never known him to act so cheerful, especially not to make a good impression on one of his employees.

"Stressful day, Mr. Kirkland?" Alfred asked curiously as he stepped into the office, pushing the mail cart in front of him.

Arthur laughed nervously. "Yes, well, I'm sure it's no matter—I lost my head for a moment is all!" He explained hurriedly.

The American nodded, scooping up a few letters and a medium sized package. With a wide smile, he set them on Arthur's desk and then placed his palm on the end of it, leaning heavily on the wooden object. Arthur leaned forward, smiling up at the American.

"What's wrong? If you ever need someone to vent to, I'm here for ya, y'know?" Alfred told him compassionately.

Arthur's cheeks flared up again and he averted his eyes, fidgeting nervously in his chair. "O-Oh, thank you, Alfred, that's very kind. I'm sure I'll be fine now, but I-I appreciate your concern, truly."

Francis watched the exchange in stunned silence, unable to believe his eyes or ears. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or did the fierce, stubborn, hotheaded man he'd known for years just turn into a teenager with a crush? Out of all the people in their office, the sunny, handsome, polar opposite of the head of Kirkland Publishing Company had managed to gain the affections of the Brit, and the effect was startling. Arthur had immediately transitioned from a grumpy, angry old man to a preening, lovesick, deer-in-the-headlights.

"No problem!" Alfred beamed, glancing idly down at the man's desk. After a moment, his eyes went wide and shot back to Arthur's face, surprised. "Woah! You don't have any tea! Switching to coffee finally?" He asked in a teasing manner.

"Not so fast!" Arthur cautioned with a laugh, equally teasing in his reply. "I'd rather wear skintight leather pants for two weeks than take one sip of the horrid drink. Why you're so fond of it is a mystery to me!" He said matter-of-factly, now grinning smugly.

Alfred laughed loudly, turning his head upward and closing his eyes. He was beautiful, all bright smiles with beautiful teeth, golden hair and baby blue doe eyes behind black-framed glasses. He was slender and slightly lanky in appearance, towering over any one else in the office at six-foot-four. Even so, Francis knew there was a layer of rock-hard muscles under Alfred's button up and slacks. The man truly was beautiful; Francis was certain that, if he tried, Alfred could easily be a male model.

Francis had seen it from the very beginning, how lovely Alfred was, and he, like everyone else, had immediately been charmed by Alfred's loud, cheery demeanor. However, these were exactly the reasons he'd expected his boss to despise the man; he had a natural distaste for Americans, and had never taken a liking to anyone obnoxious or overly cheerful. Somehow, it seemed to be different in Alfred's case, and Francis reminded himself that love sometimes worked in very mysterious ways. After all, opposites were known to attract, and Arthur could use someone who would lighten him up a bit.

"Oooh, does that mean you have a pair?" Alfred retorted with a Cheshire grin and a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Arthur rolled his eyes.

The American merely burst into laughter again and walked back to the cart, grabbing the handle. Then, he turned back toward the Brit, abruptly taking on a more sultry smile and tone. "Maybe I would," he purred, shooting Arthur a wink before he wheeled the cart out of the room. His laughter could be heard drifting slowly into the background as he walked away, leaving the Brit shell shocked in his wake.

"Jesus," Arthur whispered under his breath, green eyes wide and pale cheeks a deep shade of crimson.

Francis beamed at the Brit. "Is this the beginning of an office romance I see?" He questioned, pleased by his discovery.

"What? No! Of course not! What in the world gave you that absolutely asinine idea?!" The Brit cried, green eyes narrowing at the accusation.

Francis rolled his eyes. "You cannot pretend, Arthur! The moment that delicious American walked in you turned to mush."

"I-I did not!" The Brit sputtered. "Alfred is nothing but a coworker, a very friendly coworker whom I like well enough, but as nothing more than a friend, thank you very much! Office romances are entirely inappropriate—"

"—but not against company policy," Francis chimed in.

"That's beside the point! It would be completely unprofessional for me to engage in any manner of romantic activity with any of my employees, and I don't intend to! Whatever silly fantasy you've got in your perverted mind is nothing short of ludicrous."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd quite like what my _perverted mind_ was coming up with as far as you and that adorable American," the Frenchman purred in response.

Arthur growled. "I'm absolutely certain I wouldn't! Why don't you stop trying to play Cupid for three bloody seconds and instead attempt to get some work done?!" The Brit said, his voice raising in volume.

"Who would you vent to if not for me sitting here, hm? You were speaking of a man whom you accidentally spilled tea all over before we were interrupted." The Frenchman replied, abruptly changing the subject.

He was completely against working, especially when there were so many fun scenarios to dream Alfred and Arthur into in his head, and he knew that if he kept arguing it would only result in him getting kicked out of the room. However, that didn't mean he was simply going to give up. Allowing Arthur to rent endlessly about the atrocities he'd faced throughout the course of his day would only allow Francis more time to plot out a way to get Arthur to admit that he liked Alfred and subsequently help them become a couple.

As expected, Arthur was immediately riled up at the mention of one of the supposedly maddening events of his day.

"Yes, this goddamned tosser by the name of Jim made me give him no less than twenty-five dollars for some ratty, flea-infested shirt he'd probably received as a hand-me-down in the goddamned eighties!" Arthur cried. "The thing was probably worth fifteen cents! On top of that, he did not feel that it was at all fair to reimburse me for my tea, even though it was entirely his fault that it was spilled to begin with! I was five minutes late to work and I still don't have any fucking tea! Quite frankly, I'm—"

What Arthur was, Francis would never know, as another knock suddenly sounded.

"What is it?!" Arthur shouted angrily.

"Um... It's me again." Alfred said. "I'll just, uh—"

Arthur stiffened, once again beginning to blush at the mere sound of the American's voice. "No, that's alright, do come in!" He insisted hurriedly.

There was a pause, and then the door opened to reveal Alfred looking a bit afraid as he stepped inside, holding a mug in one hand.

"Is everything alright?" Arthur asked, trying to keep the embarrassment at being caught hollering like a child for the second time out of his voice. Everyone else in the office was used to his screaming, and yet he hoped that Alfred would never have to get used to it, as it would leave such an undoubtedly terrible impression upon the man regarding Arthur's character.

"Yeah, totally!" Alfred smiled. "I just, well—I noticed you didn't have any tea and you always do, so..." The American approached the Brit's desk, holding the mug out to him with a sheepish grin.

Arthur blinked, wide-eyed as if he simply couldn't believe what was happening. Then, hands shaking a little, he accepted the mug and pretended not to be affected when their fingers brushed.

"Th-Thank you, A-Alfred," he stuttered.

"Haha, no problem! See ya tomorrow, Mr. Kirkland! Francis, mail's on your desk." Alfred told the Frenchman with his usual grin before exiting.

Arthur closed his eyes, red to the tips of his ears and hiding his face behind his mug. He inhaled deeply and then took a sip of the steaming liquid, melting into his seat with a heavy sigh.

"This is terrible," he tried to complain, but the words floated out of his mouth in a dreamy sigh and his hands clung to the mug, cherishing it as if it were Alfred's very heart in his hands.

Francis fixed him with a smug, knowing smile and quirked a brow at his boss.

"...Perhaps I have taken a bit of a special liking to Alfred." Arthur begrudgingly admitted, averting his eyes as he spoke.

The Frenchman merely grinned triumphantly in response and began to brainstorm ways to get the pair together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think! :)


End file.
